Acer

For just two days the Acer flames
as if it’s in a spotlight on a stage.

Liquid fire shoots up the stem
sings out in the bright leaves.

Lit from within, a fibre optic lamp
wine-red as a vamp’s fingernails.

Then overnight it drops its leaves
after one splendid incandescent hour.

Would we too embrace death
if it came in such glorious clothes

Exploded in the darkness like a firework?